


Because it's for men!

by Neutralchaos



Series: These are just terrible and I should not be left to my own devices. [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Crack(ish), Fluff and Crack, M/M, brock doesn't know how to store guns properly, brock rumlow's fragile masculinity, jack is actually a good boyfriend, jack is done with that shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-05-27
Packaged: 2018-07-10 09:26:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6977644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neutralchaos/pseuds/Neutralchaos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is struck speechless as, upon opening the door, there are a few items that seem to stand out. The first being the sheer amount of weaponry shoved in there ( and yes he did mean shoved, there was no order or placement about it.) the second being the shelf full of colorful cans proclaiming themselves to be ‘man wine’, Honestly Jack couldn’t see any other type of beverage, and thirdly was the pile of candy bars that looked like kit kat bars but were stamped with a ‘For men’ in large lettering on them.</p><p>Basically an ode to to Brock Rumlow's Fragile Masculinity with a little bit of Hydra husbands fluff at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because it's for men!

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by this post on Tumblr (http://neutralchaos915.tumblr.com/post/144925667488/meahjaestyles-micdotcom-this-tumblr-post-is )  
> Go on... Tell me You guys can't see Brock owning each and every single one of those products.
> 
> Also un-edited as of right now, so let me know if you see any glaring errors. There MAY be more for this in the future. I haven't decided yet.

  **Thursday:**

_“ Hey, I know we said that we shouldn’t mix our personal lives up, with the professional side of things, but…” Brock cut himself off while he shifted from side to side, decidedly not looking up at bigger man before him. Jack, already irritated by staying later than usual because of having to help Brock get their wonderful Golden Boy all caught with how the team worked, crossed his arms over his barrel like chest, and let out an impatient huff._

_“Get on with it, Brock. I don’t got all day to wait around for you to say some stupid ass shit.” Jack said, raising his eyebrow._

_Narrowing his eyes, Brock stands up straight, took a step( or five) backwards, so he can look up at Jack, “ you wanna come over to mine on Saturday? We can watch a movie or some shit like that.” he spits out._

 

**Saturday**

Looking around his home now, Brock wonders if he maybe made a colossal mistake when invited jack over. It’s looks alright to him, but he’s never been over to Jack’s place. He has no idea if his - _boyfriend? Partner? Fuck-buddy?_ His whatever the hell you call them, is a major neat freak or not, and Brock’s humble abode, is tidy but here and there, things have piled up into fairly neat little stacks. Walking over to the kitchen he starts to open the fridge to grab himself a drink to calm his nerves, when a heavy sounding knock comes from his side door. Frowning, he pulls the guns he keeps by the knife block out and flicks the safety off. He doesn’t really think he’ll need it but it doesn’t hurt to be careful, especially in his line of work. Carefully peering through the sheer curtains on the window door ( _note to self: replace that fucking door, so I have one with a peephole or something. Who the fuck has a glass window on their fucking door anymore?)_ he spots Jack standing there, trying to stare back in at him.

“What the fuck?” Brocks asks as he opens the door, not bothering to conceal the weapon in his hand, “ why the fuck would you come to the side door, you goddamn idiot?I could’a blasted your brains out all the fucking backyard.”

 

Jack looks back at him, noting the glock in his hand, and simply plasters an amused smirk onto face.

 

“ What? Are you mad I didn’t buy you flowers” he quips, pushing past Brock, like he didn’t have a fully loaded weapon trained on him, “ besides, I thought we were trying keep work out of this. Or did you want someone to see me coming in through the front door, princess?”

“ You’re fucking two hours early” Brock mutters tossing the gun into a cupboard, not even bothering to check to see if the safety was on.

“So? What’s yer point?” Jack doesn’t so much as ask, as state as he moves through the kitchen towards the fridge. However before he opens the ancient looking relic, he spots a tin laying on the counter.

“ Hey, Brock?”

“Yeah?”

“Why the fuck do you have a box labeled the “Man Tin’?”

Looking over at the small box, now laying in Jack’s hands, he says, “ I throw my odds and ends in there. Why?”

Jack peers over at Brock, “ But why is it labeled ‘MAN TIN’? Why not just grab a random box to throw crap into? Why even bother getting a labeled one?” He asks, genuinely curious, because really, He just tossed that kind of thing into a couple of drawers at his place.

“ Because it’s a ‘MAN TIN’.” Brock says rolling his eyes, as if the answer should be obvious.  Jack looks at him before realizing that Brock had no idea or was choosing to ignore exactly what Jack was getting at, so he places the box back down on the counter where he had found it, and moves on to open the fridge.

“....”

Jack is struck speechless as, upon opening the door, there are a few items that seem to stand out. The first being the sheer amount of weaponry shoved in there ( and yes he did mean shoved, there was no order or placement about it.) the second being the shelf full of colorful cans proclaiming themselves to be ‘man wine’, Honestly Jack couldn’t see any other type of beverage, and thirdly was the pile of candy bars that looked like kit kat bars but were stamped with a ‘For men’ in large lettering on them. Blinking a few times, Jack glances over at Brock, wondering if he should even ask or bring any attention to the *ahem* selection available, before deciding to just leave and go sit on the battered looking sofa.Not bothering to ask for Brock’s permission before walking through his home, Jack marched out into the *ahem* living room park his ass, and maybe try to find something half decent to watch.

 

As he sat down, he looked down at the sad excuse that Brock called a coffee table. Really it was a pathetic thing made out of cinder blocks and plywood. However Jack was about to give the damn thing a medal for, quite frankly, defying the laws of physics. Jack was amazed that the splintered wood hadn’t broke in half yet, because of the fucktonne of magazines alone. Looking closer, among the piles of ( _really Brock? ‘GUN’S AND AMMO WEEKLY’)_ tattered pages, he could see several jars of half burnt candles. Picking one up the first thing he saw was that they were called ‘MAN CANDLES’ and this particular one was scented as ‘vagabond. Jack heaved a great big sigh as he leaned back into the couch while scrubbing his hands over his face, wondering if maybe he should put a word in for Brock to see some of the S.H.I.E.L.D.  assigned therapists, to try and tackle some very clear identity issues.  

 

“ What the shit!” Jack yelled as something very hard had pressed into his back from the cushions. Jumping up, he turned around and fished out an uzi from the depths of the worn out seat. Holding it loosely in his hands, he checked to make sure that the safety was on, (it wasn’t), before he spun towards the direction that the kitchen was, to look over at Brock, who had run over to investigate the shout. Still holding the weapon in hand, Jack leveled Brock with a look that would have sent any one of the new recruits at work running.

 

“Why. The. Fuck. Do you have a fully loaded automatic weapon shoved into your couch with the safety off?”

 

Brock the little shit, doesn’t even say anything, he just shrugs his shoulders as if to say, _Doesn’t everyone?_  Before heading back into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder “ You want something to  drink? Cause I’m gonna order in some pizza.”  

Jack is left standing by the couch, still holding the gun, debating about whether to pursue the topic or just leave it as is.

Taking a deep breath in, He decides to leave it for now. But partly because he really doesn’t have the energy to argue with Brock right now.

 

“ I dunno, You have anything besides canned wine?” he calls as walks over to the front entrance way to lean the gun up by the pile of shoes. As he leans over to make sure the damn thing stays put, he spots a peek of worn brown leather poking out from the middle of the pile of footwear.

 

“ Yeah, I got some beer laying around in one of the cupboards, I think.”

 

And Jack can hear the _you big baby_ undertone in Brock’s voice at that one. So he kicks the pile around a bit, knocking the boots out, bends over, picks them up, opens the front door, and tosses

them out onto the lawn. Staring at them for a second and internally debating about throwing a couple matches onto them.

 

“ Well, Gimme some of that then.” he yells as he gently shuts the door, “ where the hell is your bathroom? I gotta take a leak!”

 

“Upstairs, second door on your left!”

 

Jack starts up the stairs, following Brocks directions, silently vowing that if he comes across one more loaded gun shoved into a place where no gun should ever be, he was gonna fucking shoot Brock in the balls with it.

Jack steps into the small bathroom ( But really, with his size a lot spaces are small, It’s probably just the right size for Brock) and quickly goes to do his thing. Jack stops, having only flicked the open the button of his jeans. There on the back of the toilet are two items that he could quite honestly say, he had no idea existed. Instead of there being maybe an extra roll of toilet paper or a can of air freshener, there was a black box that was labeled ‘ DUDE WIPES’ sitting right next to a pink carton containing some sparkly bath bombs in the shape of grenades. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jack also spied the rifle leaning behind the clawfoot tub. ( _no shower, Brock must really fucking enjoy his baths_ ) Jack quickly decides right then and there, that he’s going to take Brock to a gun safety course even if he has to drag him there and tie him to the fucking seat, because he was Done with finding artillery EVERYWHERE. Quickly finishing his business, he turns to the sink to rinse off his hands, and wonders why the fuck Brock would buy hand soap that smells like an unwashed donkey’s ass, before he spots the caption ‘FOR MEN’ and snorts in frustration at how even at home Brock seems to want to come across as an alpha male. Because God forbid anyone finds out how much he loves it when Jack pounds into his ass. Jack rolls his eyes at the tube lying beside a toothbrush, and gives in to the urge to say something( _because really, this was a little too fucking much_ )

 

“Hey, Princess!” He bellowed towards to the stairs, guessing that Brock was more than likely still fucking around in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” and fuck, if his boy doesn’t sound just a little uncertain.

“What the fuck is toothpaste just for men? Does it taste like gunpowder?” He asks, “Or does it simply punch out all of the fucking cavities?”  he keeps going as he walks down the stairs back into the kitchen.

Not giving Brock a chance to answer he continues on “ Also, How the fuck have not shot yourself yet? Who the hell needs a FUCKING RIFLE in the goddamn bathtub? Are really that worried someone’s gonna bust in on your naked sparkly ass?”

Brock throws his hands up into the air and shoots back with “Says the man, that insists I need to dress better! Like what the fuck is wrong with how I fucking dress myself? And don’t get all high and mighty about the guns, you keep said you kept one by your bed!”

 

Jack takes a deep breath, counts to twenty before replying “ By my bed, Princess, not in it. And the rest of them are in a safe. I’m just wondering why damn near everything you own is stamped with a great a big ‘I am a man and this is what I use’ label.”

 

Brock looks up him, and by this point his face is now cradled in Jack’s big hands, his face looking years younger in his confusion, “ what the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“Sweetheart,” Jack sighs, “ I’m just gonna guess, but if i were to take a look in y’re laundry room, I’m pretty sure I would find that you’re detergent is inscribed with something like ‘ Smell Like a Man. Wash with the fresh killed bear scent’, and I gotta be honest here,Darling, you’re clothes smell like you rolled in dead hobo.”

 

Brock pulls himself from Jack’s embrace and stomps over to a small alcove that Jack didn’t notice before. He isn’t in there for even a few seconds before he stomps back out like a child that was just told it couldn’t get that candy bar that it was eyeing up, and throws a small box at Jack.

Jack catches it and reads the label ‘Bounce. 4 in 1. Pure sport scent. For Men’ and raises a eyebrow at Brock.

“You’re kinda proving my point now, Princess”

 

“ Oh come on! IT’S FOR MEN! I’M A MAN! THEREFORE I USE MADE FOR MEN PRODUCTS!”

 

Jack drops the box, pulls his now pouting lover back into his arms and just quietly says “ Okay.” Before he drops a kiss onto his forehead and makes the decision to drop the subject.

 

The ‘just for men’ product use subject. Not the gun one. Oh fuck no, not the gun storage one.He would shoot Brock with his whole damn armory before he dropped that particular subject.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Come and play in the trash bin with me on Tumblr @ neutralchaos915 ^^


End file.
